


The Crown of Hed

by Vaznetti



Category: Riddle-Master Trilogy - Patricia A. McKillip
Genre: Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaznetti/pseuds/Vaznetti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tristan left Hed, she took her warmest cloak and her second-best dress, and the pieces of jewelry that Bere of Isig had sent to her, one each year since the end of the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crown of Hed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CenozoicSynapsid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CenozoicSynapsid/gifts).



1\. 

Eliard of Hed married Granit Applegate on a warm day in spring, when the planting was done and seeds lay sleeping in the rich black earth. There was cider and cake all day in the hall of the prince’s house at Akren, and the dancing lasted well into the night, and nearly every person on Hed came to see Eliard and Granit that day. But although Eliard and Tristan both looked for him, there was no sign of the High One unless in the unseasonable gentleness of the sun and wind.

Three days later, when the hall at Akren was clean again and the grass before it was once more neatly mowed, Tristan of Hed left for Caithnard on a merchant ship. She left behind an inventory of the stores remaining after the winter, and strict instructions for the care of her rose bushes. She took with her a warm cloak and her second-best dress, and four of the five pieces of jewelry which had come for her, one each year since the end of the war, from Bere of Isig. The last, a delicate golden circlet of apple blossoms and leaves, lay carefully wrapped in Granit’s linen chest in Akren. “What on earth will I do with a crown?” Granit had said, when Tristan had told her it was hers.

“You can wear it when you milk the cows,” Tristan had told her. “I don’t think they’ll try to eat it.”

Now, at the dock, Eliard was silent when she embraced him, but Granit said, “I still think it’s odd. He might have sent letters as well. How will you know if it’s worth going all the way to Isig?”

“I won’t,” Tristan said. “But I wouldn’t know even if he had written. I would still have to go.”

“But Isig is so far,” she said. “And you’ll be cold all winter long.”

“I’ve been there before, and come back.”

“And this time?” Eliard asked.

Tristan turned to look behind her, to the ship with its sails half-raised and the cargo lashed securely to the deck: it had brought a fine black mare from An as a wedding-gift for Eliard, and would take seed-wheat north to Ymris, where a slow spring and flooding in the fall had left them short of it. “They’re ready to go,” she said. She met Eliard’s eyes again. “I’m not disappearing. I’m just going to Isig.”

“I know,” Eliard said. He cleared his throat. “I’m not asking for any promises.”

“I know,” she said. She kissed him one last time, and turned to climb on board the ship. 

2.

The harbor in Caithnard was half-full of brightly painted trade ships. Tristan saw as well three sleek war-ships from Ymris, and resolved to avoid them, no matter how unlikely it was that they had brought Astrin Ymris down from Caerweddin. The captain of her own ship said that they had come to Caithnard to look for settlers. “Since the war half of Ymris is wild,” he said. “Astrin Ymris offers a bounty to any merchant who will settle in Caerweddin. Ash Strag’s son took him up on it. But you’ll want to try Rustin Kor: he still makes the run up to Kraal, and he’ll find you a barge to go up the Ose as well. I’ll send some men along to make sure he keeps a cabin free. Although of course he will, for you,” he added. Tristan had to force herself not to scowl, and to allow one of the sailors to carry her small bundle for her.

The sailors passed her along to Rustin Kor, who tried to give up his own cabin for her; the one she ended up in still had bales of red cloth from Herun in it, waiting to be carried up to the college. He was easier about taking payment, she found. “It will come in handy,” Kor said. “There wasn’t much wine made in An these last years, and the men miss it.” The ship pulled out of the harbor as the sun was setting, and once the sails were raised and they were moving smoothly Tristan came up on deck. The sun had set now, and the rising moon behind them cast a glowing trail on the sea. She leaned against the rail and let the noises of the wood and the water, and the occasional voices of the sailors, take over her thoughts: the hull creaked, a bit of rigging groaned as it twisted in the wind, a fish splashed somewhere behind them in the sea. One of the sailors came back to watch the trail the ship left as well, leaning over the rail not far from her; he seemed just another part of the motion of the ship, until she realized that he had stopped leaning against the rail and climbed onto it, balanced like a dancer or, she suddenly thought, a diver. He took a deep, sobbing breath, distinct from all the other noises of the night.

She jumped forward as he bent to his dive, and managed to grab him by the edge of his tunic. He half-turned, arms windmilling, and began to fall backward into the sea. One of his hands hit her in the cheek, knocking her off balance as well. Her feet slipped on the deck and she gripped him by the legs to keep herself up. He shouted: the rail shattered, there was an enormous crash, and they both went over the edge and into the sea.

Tristan hit the water head-first, feeling nothing but cold and shock; she kicked and struggled as her cloak settled around her arms and legs. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move, all she could hear was her heart beating and all she could feel was the air burning in her lungs. The water was dark and empty and she was sinking all alone.

Something grabbed her: her cloak ripped and fell away and she was dragged upright in the water, her head bobbing out into the night. She took a huge breath of air and water, and coughed and struggled. Something kicked her legs. “Stop wriggling,” a voice said in her ear. “Can’t you swim?”

She was coughing too hard to answer him, but she did try to stop moving. The man had one arm around her chest and was kicking his legs and pushing with the other arm to keep them both afloat. “Hey,” he shouted up at the black shape of the ship. “Hey!” She could hear noises over the waves: sailors shouting to each other, the sound of something being hauled around over the deck, but no one came to look down at them. The man took another deep breath.

The sound he made wasn’t a shout at all: it was the sound of wood shattering, of wind howling. Above them Tristan heard something crack in response, and the ship rocked. But faces appeared above the rail and the sailors lowered a rope for them. The man made sure she had a good grip on it before he let go so that she could be pulled up. She was quickly wrapped in blankets but the sailors were busy: there was a crack running all the way downs the mainmast, and the boom lay in pieces with the sail all around it onto the deck.

Rustin Kor stopped shouting orders when the man who had fallen with Tristan climbed up the rope and onto the deck. “Who in Hel’s name are you?” he asked. 

The man stood dripping on the deck, staring at the tangled sail and broken wood. “Rood of An,” he said.

“Rood of An,” Kor repeated blankly. “Rood of An! You’ve wrecked my ship! What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” Rood said, “but you would never have known I was here if I hadn’t been interrupted.” He turned to look curiously at Tristan. “What were you doing there?”

Tristan sneezed. Now that she could see him, she remembered the angry young man who had come to Hed for word of Morgon, so many years ago. “What were _you_ doing?” she asked.

“I wasn’t going to drown, if that’s what you’re asking.” He looked quite calm amidst all the chaos.

“You still might,” Kor said, “if we can’t get this straightened out. We’ll be lucky to make it back to Caithnard, and if this wind doesn’t shift we won’t be able to turn her.” He turned back to the sailors. “You there! Don’t cut that sheet!”

“I said I was sorry,” Rood said. “I can pay for the repairs, of course,” he added, to the captain’s back. Tristan sneezed again. Rood crouched down next to her. “What were you thinking, grabbing me like that? And what kind of sailor can’t swim?”

“I’m not a sailor,” Tristan said. “I’m going to Isig, and now I’ve lost my cloak.” She shivered and sneezed again and then, to her horror, burst into tears. The sea had been dark and bottomless and cold and somewhere in it her mother and father were still lying: she thought of the water closing over her mother’s head and wondered if her father had tried to hold them up, the two of them all alone in the angry black water.

Rood tucked the blanket around her more tightly, and rubbed her head with another. “I’m sure you can get a new one.”

“It had my brooch on it,” Tristan said. “Bere of Isig made it for me, it had a robin in her nest on it.” She sniffled. It was a stupid thing to worry about, but she had liked the brooch best of all the things Bere had made, and if she thought about the brooch she might not think about her mother.

Rood stopped trying to dry her off and peered at her. “Who are you?”

“Tristan,” she said. “Of Hed. You didn’t recognize me.” Rood began to laugh. “It isn’t funny. I saw what you were doing. You were all ready to dive into the sea. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I wasn’t going to drown,” Rood said, serious again. “I just needed to get away. It’s so quiet in Anuin, and I kept thinking of how Raederle loved the sea. I was already in Caithnard, and I thought no one would notice if I tried to find her.“

“You thought she would find you first.”

“But you fell in with me,” he said. “We might both have drowned down there.” He rose and went to stare out at the water.

“Eliard got married, and Morgon didn’t come.” She was quiet a moment, shivering. “Do you think they’re all right?”

Rood turned back. “I’m sure they are,” he said, but his face was hidden in the shadow. 

3\. 

A steady breeze pushed their ship into the port Cairweddin three days later, the mast lashed together, the spars leaning at odd angles, and the sailors worn out from keeping her afloat. The sail was mostly patched; Tristan had helped them mend it until her cold grew so bad that Rustin Kor had made her go lie in blankets in her cabin. She remembered waking to find Rood sitting by her, with wine and ship’s biscuit to dip in it. “I broke the galley stove when I shouted,” he had said. His hands were blistered from the wet rope and splintered wood he’d been helping the sailors with.

Rain pattered against the deck above her as they entered the harbor, and Tristan was vaguely aware of men shouting while the ship rocked back and forth and came to rest against the dock. Rood and the captain came down to her cabin. “We have a litter to carry you up to the castle,” Rood said. “Astrin Ymris is waiting for us.”

“Is he angry?” Tristan asked sleepily.

“Why would he be angry?” Kor asked as they helped her out of the hammock and onto her feet. 

She tried to stand up and coughed until she wanted to curl up. “We tricked him.” She couldn’t quite remember what she was doing in Ymris now; wasn’t she going somewhere else?

“She’s feverish,” Rood said. “That was a long time ago,” he told her. “Come on now.”

The litter was covered with cushions and furs; Tristan was asleep again before they reached the castle, and grumbled when they moved her into a bed. A woman gave her a cup of warm, bitter liquid and held her up until she drank it all. She felt warm and comfortable; there were voices arguing not far away but they didn’t seem important.

She blinked awake to find the sun streaming in the window; when she sat up her head felt surprisingly clear. Then she closed her eyes, because Lyra was sitting a the end of the bed and smiling at her. When she opened them again, Lyra was still there. “You’re awake,” Lyra said.

“Yes,” Tristan said slowly. “Is this...” she thought back to what she remembered of the voyage. “Why are you in Caerweddin?”

“I was visiting Teril Umber,” she said. “But I heard you were here, and were ill. How are you feeling?”

“I just had a cold,” Tristan said. “I fell in the sea, and I couldn’t change out of my clothes because the ship was going to sink.”

“I know,” Lyra said. “Everyone in Ymris knows, I think. Astrin and Rood have been shouting at each other about it for the last three days. Astrin keeps threatening to send Rood back to Hed to explain himself to Eliard.”

Tristan smiled. “The kings of Ymris certainly like to try telling people where to go. Does it ever work?” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I should go down and see them.”

“Not until Lady Anoth has seen you. Astrin’s physician. She’ll be here soon, and while we wait you can tell me why you were on that ship in the first place.”

“I’m going to Isig,” Tristan said. “Bere keeps sending me gifts. I’ll show you.” Her bundle was on a chest by the bed. She unwrapped them and took them out: the twisted bracelet of gold and silver ears of grain braided together, the necklace of red berries and golden leaves, and the hairpins of white gold blossom.

“They’re beautiful,” Lyra said, touching the bracelet lightly.

“There were two other pieces, but I gave one to Granit and lost one with my cloak. But I don’t know what he thinks I do with them – wear them to feed the pigs?”

Lyra smiled. “He thinks he’s in love with you.”

“He met me once.”

“But you’re going all the way to Isig to see him. Are you going to marry him?”

“I don’t know. I won’t know until I see him. But I needed... I needed to leave Hed for a little while.”

“I know,” Lyra said. “Rood said the same. Do you know he left Caithnard without telling anyone? Now he jumps every time he sees a crow.” She broke off as a tall, elderly woman came into the room. She examined Tristan briskly, pronounced her fit enough to drink some soup, and asked whether all the people of Hed were prone to disaster at sea. “I treated your brother when he was in Ymris, you know,” she said. “He wouldn’t stay in bed and I suppose you won’t either.”

True to Anoth’s prediction, Tristan walked, very slowly, down to the hall that evening. Both Astrin and Rood stood to help her to the table, but Lyra already held her arm and settled her in a chair before going to sit next to another young lord. Teril Umber, she guessed, from the way Lyra smiled at him. The five of them were alone at the great table. “I’m much better,” Tristan said.

“You wouldn’t have been ill at all if you hadn’t leaped into the sea.“ Astrin began.

“I didn’t leap,” Tristan said. “I was trying to stop Rood from drowning himself.”

“I’ve told you all that I wasn’t trying to drown myself,” Rood said. “It was an experiment. And I would never have jumped in if I’d seen you there.” He paused. “Why didn’t I see you there?”

“You probably weren’t looking.” Tristan turned her attention to her soup; everyone else, she saw, had full plates.

“I was looking,” Rood said. “I wanted to be sure I was alone.”

Astrin put down his knife. “Another riddle out of Hed?” His voice was light but he was staring at her with an expression Tristan didn’t like. She scowled at her bowl. “I remember how you tricked Hereu. At the time I thought it was just him.”

“I remember how you tried to stop us from looking for Morgon,” Tristan said. “All I want now is to go to Isig,” 

“You even sound like Morgon,” Astrin said. “You should go to Lungold.”

“Lungold?” Tristan said. “Lungold is in completely the wrong direction.”

Rood was frowning. “I hate to admit it, but Astrin is right. You are one of the most famous people in the realm, yet you have a remarkable talent for passing through it almost unnoticed. You should at least find out whether you really have a gift for magic.”

“I’m not really famous,” Tristan said. “Everyone knows Morgon, not me.” She looked away from them, down the long, dim hall. It had been built for more people, she thought, and now it seemed empty, the way so many places seemed empty.

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Rood said quietly.

“Possibly,” Tristan said. “But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m going to Isig, not to Lungold, and that I need to find another ship now, because you broke the one I was sailing on before.”

“Stay a few more days, at least,” Astrin said. “Anoth will poison me if I let you leave before you’re well.”

There was no way to avoid Astrin’s hospitality, or to refuse the new cloak, which after all, she told herself, she would need in Isig, and which was nicer than the one she’d lost. She wore it when he took them all riding out to King’s Mouth Plain, to see the great stones left by the Earth-Masters. He watched Tristan carefully. “Do you feel anything?”

“Should I?” There was a breeze whistling around the corners of the haphazardly piled stones. “It feels empty,” she said. “Morgon told me that he imprisoned the shape-changers in Erlenstar Mountain. It’s very beautiful here, but it feels dead.”

“Yes,” Astrin agreed. “I used to think that there was something waiting here, but now it’s gone.”

The stones were beautiful, she thought, standing upright or lying in the grass, pale as milk except for the strains of jewel-colors running through them. They were smooth under her fingers, but shone as brightly as if they had just been cut. She wandered among them, trying to imagine the city, vaguely aware of the other three trailing behind her. Any city was strange enough to her, but she remembered Morgon talking about the way the Earth-Masters built theirs open to the winds; the breezes plucked at her cloak and her hair as she walked out to the edge of the plain, overlooking the sea. She could trace the walls of a house here, and imagined windows open to the air and water. There would be a fire in the corner, and she could lean out the open window to see rain clouds gathering on the horizon.

“Tristan!” Rood pulled her back, out of the shattered room. Astrin was standing just behind him, his face as white as his hair, and Lyra took Tristan’s hands.

“What happened?” There were no clouds out above the sea, she saw, no gathering rain. She shivered.

“You... you faded,” Lyra said. “It’s hard to describe.”

“We need to leave,” said Astrin, his voice tight. “Now.”

They rode back down to Caerweddin in silence; back in Tristan’s room, Astrin stood in the doorway and Rood and Lyra sat on the bed. Even at the window, Tristan felt trapped between them. “What did you see there?” Rood asked.

“I saw a storm out to sea,” Tristan said. She thought. “It was as if the house had a memory.”

“And you walked into it.” Astrin muttered a curse. “I used to think Galil Ymris was wrong to destroy the pattern of those stones to build this house, but now I want the whole thing gone.”

“Don’t,” Tristan said. “It wasn’t dangerous.”

“You don’t know that,” Lyra said. “You didn’t see yourself – it was as if you faded into the stone. You were only half there.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tristan said. “Except to Isig,” she added.

“You should go back to Caithnard,” Rood said. Astrin snorted. “It’s closer than Lungold.”

“I don’t want to study riddles,” Tristan said. “And I don’t see what they’d be able to tell me.”

“You need to see Morgon,” Lyra said. She looked as Astrin.

“He’s somewhere,” Astrin said. “I can feel him, his bindings on the land-law. But I couldn’t find him if he didn’t want to be found.”

“And he doesn’t,” Rood said.

“I miss him too,” Tristan said. “I keep looking up and expecting him to be there, and he isn’t. It’s as if he’s always just out of sight. But I’m fine.” She paused a moment. “I was distracted, up in the city, as if I was looking at something, and just became lost in it. That’s what happened on the ship, as well, I think.”

“And if you become distracted again?” Rood asked, rising to his feet. “If you disappear somewhere between here and Isig, I swear by my name that I’ll tear the realm apart to find you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tristan said. She turned to look out the window. “I suppose Morgon is just out of sight, in a way. Since he’s the High One, I mean. But it’s still strange; he broke my toy horse when I was about seven, and I put frogs in his bed.”

Lyra snorted. “I threw a rock at him, the first time we met. But Tristan, there is some kind of power in you. Astrin sees it, Rood sees it. Even I can see it, and I don’t have a magical bone in my body.”

“Maybe,” Tristan conceded. “I still want to go to Isig first. I need to; I can’t explain it.”

“You met Bere once,” Rood pointed out.

“I know,” Tristan said. “You all see something different when you look at me – I don’t know what it is. I need to know what he sees, as well.”

Astrin shifted in the doorway. “I don’t understand it,” he said. “But I’ll give you a ship to take you as far as Kraal, at least.”

Tristan didn’t argue.

She woke when it was still dark, and watched the moon set until the sky was nothing but blackness pierced by distant starlight. Then she got up, as quietly as she could, took her things and opened the door to her room; at least, she thought, Astrin had been too polite to post guards by her door. She walked down the hall to Lyra’s room; she was sleeping peacefully, but when Tristan touched her arm she sat upright, her hands reaching out over the bed as if to find a weapon. “Tristan?” she said.

Tristan put a finger to her lips. “I’m leaving now,” she said. “I should be able to find a ship heading out with the tide at dawn.”

“But Astrin—“

“Astrin has decided he knows what I should do. But tell him not to worry, I’ll be fine. And tell Rood too. And I wanted to give you this.” She held out the gold bracelet; even in the dark it gleamed dully, the twisted ears of wheat picked out more by their shadows than their shapes.

“I can’t take this,” Lyra said.

“You liked it,” Tristan said. “I’ve never worn it. The chickens would try to peck at it, or it would fall off in the orchard. Anyway, I should leave now.” She put the bracelet in Lyra’s hand and closed her fingers over it. “Please.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Lyra asked. “I will.”

Tristan smiled at her. “No, stay here. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“How will you get out of the palace?” Tristan looked down. “Tristan,” Lyra said. “You can’t deny that you have this power one moment and use it the next.”

“I know,” Tristan said. “I won’t. Don’t let Astrin send warships after me, though.”

Lyra sighed. “Fine. But you had better get safely to Isig.”

4\. 

Tristan wondered, as she stepped up onto the dock at Kyrth, whether she should have written to Bere to tell him she was coming. She reasoned that a letter might not have come before she herself did: she had sailed north to Kraal, where the ship she was on was loaded with timbers to take to Caithnard, still rebuilding from the war. The barge she took along the Ose carried casks of oil and wine from An, and she had made her bed among packets of spices all the way from Lungold; her clothes smelled faintly of cinnamon. She slipped away while the traders were shouting to each other and the barrels were being rolled down to their warehouse.

Kyrth at first seemed crowded to her, and she was jostled from one side and then the other by the people going about their business: a woman with two great baskets of carrots, another with piled cages of chickens, and man pushing a cart loaded with shingles. Then she found a quiet spot by a fountain, where two roads met, and breathed in the smell of smoke and wood until she could see the patterns the people around her made, and the empty places within them: a shuttered house there, a man pushing a two-handed barrow on his own, gaps in the market stalls like missing, the hollow cheeks of women buying turnips and greens. She lifted her bundle again and walked into the crowd. The street she was on kept going up, through the town and out the gate; she could see the stone walls of Danan Isig’s house ahead of her.

Outside Kyrth the road up to Harte was empty; there were still patches of snow from a late spring blizzard in the shadows under the thickest trees. She realized, about half the way up, that her legs had lost some of their strength on the long journey by sea; while she was resting by the side of the track a bell began to ring up in the house above her, and a few minutes later a rider raced headlong down the road. She realized that the mountain was otherwise completely silent – she had heard no birds or animals, all the way up the road – and shivered despite the warm cloak. But there was no point waiting: the bell kept ringing as she trudged up the mountainside, and soon it was joined by slow, steady tolling from the town below.

The gates of Harte were shut when she reached them. She knocked, and yelled, and pounded on them again, and wished she had Rood’s knack of breaking things with a shout. She tried it, but her voice sounded weak against the silence of the mountain. If Astrin Ymris were here, she thought grimly, he might reconsider his belief that she could become a wizard.

“Danan Isig is dead,” the man standing next to her said.

“What?” she said, and then, “Morgon!” and hurled herself at him. His arms went around her to hold her close. “Where have you been?” she asked his shirt.

He let her go far enough to smile down at her. “I’ve been...” He looked vague. “I was talking to Danan for a while. Before that I was living with the vesta.”

She wiped her cheeks. “You idiot,” she said. “Eliard got married! Where were you?”

“I saw,” he said. “I didn’t think... I didn’t know how to visit.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Did you think we didn’t want you there?”

“No,” he said slowly. “But you all have lives to live. Eliard will marry, and have heirs, and I will watch them do the same, over and over and over.”

She tried to imagine all the years spreading out before him. “Oh, Morgon,” she said. “You don’t have to mourn for us already.”

“Don’t I?” He turned away from her as the gate swung open. There was a crowd of people there, with a man and woman standing at the front; she tried to recognize Bere behind them, but realized that she had no idea what he would look like now.

“Ash Isig,” Morgon said to the man. Ash bent his head. “I’m sorry.”

“He always said he wanted to become a tree, in the end,” Ash said.

“He thought it would be peaceful.” Morgon wrapped an arm around Tristan’s shoulders and walked into the courtyard. “I can show you, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Ash said. “I’m sorry. You must both be tired, or hungry. Come in.” He stepped back and looked around behind him, as if he was still unsure of how to issue commands; a brown-haired woman came to take his arm, and they walked together back to the house. Morgon and Tristan followed them with the rest into the hall, until another woman stopped them. “If you like, you can go to rest in the east tower. I’ll show you the room. People will be coming up from Kyrth all night.”

“You’re Kel, aren’t you? Ash’s wife.” She nodded. “I remember the way, you don’t need to show us.” He kept his arm around Tristan and walked them through the hall and up a set of winding stairs to a small room. “I stayed here once before,” he said to Tristan. He let go of her for the first time. “Why are you in Isig?”

“Don’t you know?” Tristan asked.

He tilted his head to one side. “I don’t know,” he said, as if he was just discovering that. “Are you planning to marry Bere of Isig? You’ve come a long way just to give him back the gifts he sent.”

“I can’t give them all back, anyway,” Tristan said. “I gave two away, and lost one. Could you find it for me? It think it’s at the bottom of the sea somewhere.” She lifted her chin and met his eyes.

Morgon smiled at her. “Maybe. Don’t change the subject.” 

“I didn’t even recognize him in the crowd,” Tristan said. “Astrin Ymris thinks I should go to Lungold.” 

“Astrin Ymris sees some things very clearly. Do you want to go to Lungold?” He paused. “I thought you would stay in Hed.”

“I thought so too,” Tristan said. “But Morgon, so many people died in the war. There are fields in Hed going to weeds, and not enough farmers left in Ymris to feed Caerweddin, and women in Kyrth selling springtime weeds for food. Everywhere I look I see pieces of the realm missing. Don’t you?”

Morgon looked away, through the walls hung with rugs and out to the forest beyond. “It will grow, Tristan. Right now, I can feel Ash’s bindings in the veins beneath the mountain and the trees above it. There are people coming up the road from Kyrth to see him. Be patient. Trust me.”

“They’re coming to see you, too. Let them see you, Morgon. If you want us to trust you, let us see you.”

“Tristan—“

“Morgon, we’ve all lost so much. Don’t make us lose you as well.”

He touched her cheek. “You haven’t lost me, Tristan. Is that how it seems?” She nodded. “I thought you needed to live without the High One.”

“I don’t miss the High One, Morgon,” she said. “I miss you.” He closed his eyes and nodded, and wrapped his arms around her; they stood like that, until her stomach grumbled. Morgon chuckled into her hair and let her go. “I think I missed a meal, coming up the mountain.”

“We can go back down,” Morgon said.

The long tables in the hall were crowded; Morgon found them space on a bench, and helped them both to beer and food as the trays were passed around. The talk around them was of Danan Isig, but also of everyday life: a marriage, a birth, cargo waiting for a trade-ship, the coming summer. After a while Morgon touched her shoulder and rose, and went to stand in the group by Ash and Vert. A young man climbed over the bench to sit next to her; he glanced at her, then looked down, pushing Morgon’s plate away, his face hidden by shaggy black hair.

“You’re Bere, aren’t you?” she said.

He nodded. “I remember you, from when you were here before. Thank you for coming to us. With Morgon, I mean.”

“I was coming anyway,” Tristan said. “I wanted to see you. The things you sent me were so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “I hoped you would like them.” He looked around the hall. “It’s hard to believe that he’s not going to walk back through the door, covered in snow and complaining that he’s hungry.”

Tristan looked down at her plate. “I know,” she said.

“I wanted to show him the work I was doing,” Bere continued. “I had an idea for casting gold wire.” She let him talk aimlessly a while, then walked with him back to his family, leaving him there before she could be handed a child to look after.

She left in the morning, uncomfortable staying while the family mourned. Morgon had gone deeper into the mountain, with Ash, after she had said goodbye. Now Bere, gangly and awkward as he towered above her, walked her to the gate of the house. “I hope you don’t want the things you sent me back,” Tristan said, looking up at him. “I’ve given most of them away. I gave the hairpins to Morgon to give to Raederle; they were too fine for me.”

“I don’t mind,” Bere said.

“They weren’t really for me, were they?” Tristan asked.

Bere looked down. “They weren’t _not_ for you. I wanted someone to have them, and I thought of you. That’s why I made them to look like fruit and flowers, for Hed.”

“I gave the crown you made to Granit, to Eliard’s wife. The princes of Hed don’t wear crowns, but now maybe their wives will. When they feed the pigs and chickens.” She thought back then to an argument, long ago, and Kern of Hed’s cabbage-jeweled crown, and smiled. “Maybe you should make one for Eliard as well.”

“To wear when he milks the cows?” Bere asked. “I think I had the wrong idea about Hed.”

“I don’t know,” Tristan said. “I don’t really know much about jewelry, either. All I could say was whether they looked real, or not.” She looked around the courtyard, the workshops and the cobbled ground, surrounded by the tall pines and the mountain shadowing everything; Granit had been right to have been worried about her, and how anyone from Hed could grow in the thin, poor soil of the mountain. But Morgon had, she remembered: he had found a way to send roots deep into the earth, like the pines, to see through the darkness like the animals that lived in it. She smiled at Bere. “You aren’t upset, are you?”

He smiled down at her. “I’m not upset. You know you can come back whenever you want, whatever happens.”

“I know,” she said, but the road stretched down the mountain to the Ose, and she could see the river shining as the sun cracked through the clouds. She took her bundle and turned to follow it.

5.

It was midsummer when Tristan came to Lungold: the city walls were hazy in the dusty evening light. Merchants and traders were closing up their stalls in the square just beyond the gate, folding up their bales of cloth, and placing a few unsold vegetables into crates. Others were lighting fires and grilling meat on skewers or selling bread from carts. She bought a peach from an old man and ate it as she wandered further into the town, licking the juice off her fingers and wiping them on her skirt as she stared around her. The closer she came to the center of the city, the more houses seemed to be in ruins, burnt shells or piles of wood and rubble. 

At Lungold’s heart was the largest ruin of all: what had once been the school of wizardry was now just blasted rock, melted metal and glass. Tristan picked her way across the wasteland. The ground under her feet was hard, although here and there thin patches of grass managed to reach up into the sunlight. A few trees pushed their twisted way out of the earth; in one of them, a bird was singing.

She kept going, not quite aimlessly, letting the place itself guide her; some of the ruins were empty, but in others she thought she saw signs of life: new glass in broken windows, new tiles on a roof. A doorway with a door in it. She raised her hand to knock, then changed her mind and pushed it open. 

A woman sat by the fire, smoking a pipe and stirring something on the hearth. She took the pipe from her mouth when Tristan came in and blew out a long stream of smoke. “Tristan of Hed,” she said. “We heard you might be coming to us. What have you brought, beside yourself?”

If she’d wanted to be asked riddles, Tristan thought, she could have stayed in Caithnard. Nun knocked the ash out of her pipe. “I have a necklace,” Tristan said. “It’s made of gold from Isig. It has berries on it made of red stones.”

“The ruins here are full of melted gold and silver,” Nun said.

“Then take this,” Tristan said, and held out the peach pit. “Find a good place to plant it, and water it, and maybe it will grow.”

Nun smiled as her. “Well,” she said. “Maybe it will.”

end.


End file.
